Professionally Private
by storywriter30
Summary: Professional or private. That's how they've kept it and that's why it works – both in and out of the office. There are boundaries and they don't cross them, but some reactions – to certain situations – can't be controlled.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay so this is a small multi-chapter. It's looking to be 5-7 chapters long and I'm almost done with it. **

**Fair Warning: This is not going to be a fluffy story. It's on the darker side. By no means explicit, but dark themes with some allusions to the horrors of Ziva's past. **

**Other than that - this goes AU after Dammed If You Do, spoilers for everything up to there. **

* * *

**Chapter One**

The men's room, he thinks, is not nearly as interesting as the ladies' room. There is no gossiping, no dirty looks and no clandestine hookups going on – though, in fairness to the other men of NCIS, there's not enough room to hook up in the men's room.

He and Ziva have tried. It's why they do all of their daytime hooking up in the ladies' room – _with the lock on_.

But they don't do it that often. Not at work, anyway. It's not professional and they always feel so guilty afterwards, but it also feels _cheap_. And Tony will probably never tell Ziva this, but he just doesn't like it. He doesn't like doing things like that at work with her; he'd rather be at home – in one of their apartments – in private, because that's where their relationship and its activities belong.

So about a month or so after they went back to work, they swore off many things in the office – hook-ups included. The list of activities non-gratis became known as _The Rule_.

He doesn't really mind _The Rule_.

Tony is more protective of their relationship than Ziva probably realizes. He's worked hard to be tight lipped about it at work. It's not like most of the Navy Yard doesn't know, because they do. Tony and Ziva have become this de facto class couple of sorts and though he isn't surprised, he hates that title. Absolutely hates being the ones whom everyone likes to gossip about.

And he never thought that would be the case, but it is. He's ridiculously protective of his relationship with Ziva and it's private nature. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that they're both so different at work than they are at home. He would never make the amount of juvenile jokes and comments that he does in the office when it's just him and Ziva. It just doesn't seem necessary. And there is something so soft and relaxed about the Ziva who likes to curl against him at night.

He cleans his hands and exits the bathroom. She's the only one in the bullpen and as he walks to his desk, he allows himself to give her a real smile. That's the only thing they sometimes cheat with. _The looks_. They've never been wholly professional anyways and she's always been able to read behind his eyes.

His look catches her off guard and he knows that she can't hide the blush the blossoms on her features.

It's moments like these that he wonders how he ever went home without her. He doesn't understand how he made it eight years staring at her, without ever getting the opportunity to really be with her.

But he did. _They_ did and it wasn't until they placed their badges on Vance's desk and lost everything that's ever really meant something, that they both took the plunge.

Maybe they'd both thought it would be a fling – something they'd push aside when everything settled down and went back to normal.

Except it wasn't. _Far_ from it, actually. And when Gibbs returned from his clandestine summer fun, they made a pact with each other.

No, they couldn't be like that on the job. It wouldn't work and things would be messy. On the job, they had to pretend this had never happened. They had to pretend that things had never irrevocably changed. That was how _The Rule _started.

But at home – in the privacy of one of their apartments – they knew they could never go back. Things would never be the same.

That's just what they wanted.

* * *

He can hear her in her kitchen when he lets himself into her apartment. She's humming to herself as she works on the stovetop and it brings a smile to his face.

He loves turning that key and opening this door – it's like he's stepping into a whole other world where only the two of them exist and nothing else matters. He likes it and he _loves_ her. And she knows that and he knows that she likes it and she loves him. It's complicated and difficult – keeping their emotions in check and having a balance, but it's worth it. Being able to still have each other's back in the field and at home – it's worth _The Rule_.

"That was fast," she says.

He leaves his shoes by the door and joins her in the kitchen. "Yeah, well, didn't have much to do at my place."

"And you just couldn't bear another moment without me?" she throws a smile at him over her shoulder.

"Actually," he says, coming up behind her, and wrapping her arms around her shoulders. "I couldn't." He places a kiss on the side of her neck and he feels a shiver run through her.

"Dinner will not be ready for another forty minutes."

"That's too bad." He feigns. He places another kiss, this time on the side of her cheek. "Does it require your constant attention?"

"Not after I put the chicken in."

"Huh." He kisses her shoulder and then backs away.

She continues working and he knows she can feel his eyes roaming all over. "Tony," she says, after a brief silence and her tone has suddenly gone serious that it makes him sit up straighter, "Why did you give me that…_look_ today?"

"What look?" he asks.

"When you came back from the bathroom…we were alone in the bullpen and you…gave me that _smile_."

"Oh…" he says, "I don't know I just thought, _wow, there's Ziva. I'm going to smile at Ziva_. So I did."

"That's it?" she asks. He knows that sometimes what he says is just a little much, but he can't help it – he has eight years to make up for.

"That's it." He confirms. "Why?"

"It did not seem in compliance with _The Rule_. That's all."

"For all you know, I was smiling at you because I cracked the case. That would not break _The Rule_."

"_Did_ you crack the case in the bathroom?" she returns.

"That question is in violation of _The Rule._ But no."

She places the chicken in the oven and sets the timer for thirty-five minutes. And then she turns around and raises her eyebrows at him in a way that makes him itch for her.

She settles in his lap and places his hands on her chest. "Okay." She says.

"I thought so."

She smiles and leans down to kiss him and her lips are warm and soft and _so_ welcomed. He runs his hands up and down her back and she arches into him as he slips between her lips.

"I love you," she says between his kisses and it makes his head spin and his heart flutter in the best of ways.

He pauses for a moment and lets his hands frame her face as he stares into, what he considers, the deepest and most incredible chocolate brown eyes in the world, "I love you, too." He says. "I missed _you_ at work today."

She smiles and plays along, kissing his chin. "How was your partner today?" she asks.

He shrugs. "Eh, she was alright. A little cranky in the morning."

"Maybe you should have bought her coffee."

"Have to stay professional," he parrots.

She swats his chest and then leans back into him, capturing his mouth once again. They stay there for a moment, but then his hands begin to roam under her shirt and she raises a brow at him.

He pushes her off his lap as he stands and she wraps her arms around his neck. "What do you say we move to a more horizontal location?" He asks.

* * *

She is awake before his cell phone goes off. Years after her days in Mossad and that foray into the desert, her body has never conditioned itself to be able to sleep for more than four or five hours at a time – even after a full days' work and an evening with Tony.

So it's three in the morning and she's awake.

She twists in Tony's arm and reaches for the remote control, but it's behind her still-filled tea mug and she'd have to totally untangle herself from her partner and she doesn't want to do that so she just sinks back into him.

He is so comfortable to lie against and she's sure she will never get used to how much she enjoys just laying with him – being with him.

They've been together – officially together with full disclosure on feelings and desires – for almost six months now. She will never tell Tony this, but they have been some of the happiest six months of her life.

Sure, they have their issues and they fight, but she would never trade what they now have. This – the coming home with each other, the bantering over dinner, the weekends together – they outweigh whatever small quarrels spring up between them.

With Tony she feels like she can be her complete and total self – she could take him down physically or mentally in a fight if she wanted to, but she can also find the safety and protection in him that she never dreamed she'd want or allow someone to provide her. It's this balance in their relationship and her life that leads Ziva to think she might just be on the path to something really good.

One of their phones lights up on the bedside table and she leans over to confirm her knowing notion that it's probably Gibbs rousing them from their beds for another case.

She flips the first phone open and spares only a second's thought of what Gibbs will say if this is Tony's phone rather than her own.

"David." She says.

"You mean DiNozzo," comes Gibbs' gruff reply and Ziva rolls her eyes. So she _had_ picked up the wrong cell phone.

"Sorry, Gibbs."

"Crime scene in Hillcrest Heights. See you _both_ when you get there."

The phone clicks and she closes it and she tosses it back on the bedside table. She supposes being awake already makes getting up easier.

She shifts in Tony's arms and rubs a hand down his side. "Tony," she says. She shakes him just a bit. "Tony."

"Hmm?" he startles. "'S wrong?"

"Crime scene. Time to get up."

"No," he whines and tightens his arms around her.

* * *

"Fill me in," Tony says to McGee as he rounds the hood of the car and snaps a picture of the license plate, "As to _why_ we're here."

"She's a Marine Dependent," the younger field agent explains, "And she works on the Navy Yard."

"Work_ed_." Tony corrects. He accepts McGee's explanation, but he definitely doesn't like it. Tony doesn't appreciate being roused from bed – _Ziva's_ bed, no less – at three o'clock in the morning on a _Saturday_ for a case that is barely in their jurisdiction. He's beginning to think that Gibbs saw an in with the case and took it – just to save them from another week of cold cases.

Tony would've have appreciated the move, had it been ten o'clock Monday morning, but right now, he can't say he's filled with such a sentiment.

They haven't had an active case in almost a month and sure, _good_ for the Navy and the Marines – their dead body count is down, but _bad_ for Team Gibbs because their body count was about to go up if they didn't something to occupy their times.

"Looks pretty clear cut," the Metro Detective says to Gibbs, "Wallet's been cleaned of credit cards and cash and there's marks on her fingers where her rings were."

Gibbs nods and Tony can't tell if he's agreeing or disagreeing and that's probably the point.

"Just a good old fashioned robbery?" Detective Rossetti confirms at Gibbs' silence.

"Looks that way," McGee pipes in and now would be the time for Tony to jump in and offer some sort of joke or move reference, but Ducky and Jimmy are currently removing the body from the vehicle and it has caught his attention.

Maybe it was her brown eyes that first caught his attention or the golden skin that still is just barely evident or the dark brown ringlets that frame her face, but either way, he is awestruck and a little disturbed that their robbery-gone wrong victim bares an uncanny resemblance to Ziva.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry for the delay on this. It's been hard to get it where I want it, but I'm trying my hardest to finish it before the season starts and I have to label this more AU than it already is. Sigh. **

**Much love to the fandom. At lo levad. **

* * *

**Chapter Two**

She picks the remote for the plasma up from her desk and then begins to brief Gibbs on the personal information that she has gotten on their latest victim since the sun came up.

"Claudia Meyers," Ziva says as the victim's driver's license comes onto the screen. "Age: 30. Married, no children. She was a preschool teacher in the Navy Yard's Child Care Center. She moved to the United States five years ago from Chile after meeting her husband Tim while he was on vacation." She clicks the remote and another license comes onto the screen. "Lance Corporal Timothy Meyers is 32," she continues. "He's stationed at Quantico in a desk job after nearly losing his left leg in Afghanistan six months ago."

"Husband have any beefs with anyone?" Gibbs asks.

Ziva shakes her head. "Not that I know of, but he is on his way in."

"Good," Gibbs says. "You and DiNozzo talk to him. McGee and I are headed to check out a lead from a charge on one of her credit cards."

She watches McGee scramble to get his badge and gun from his desk. He clearly had no idea he was about to be beckoned out of the building and with a _coming, boss_ – he's running out of the bullpen to catch Gibbs.

Settling back at her desk, Ziva looks around. For a Saturday, the NCIS squadroom is remarkably busy. The Middle East desk is humming with information coming in about the ever changing status of the Egyptian government and the South East Asia desk looks like it's putting out some fires in relation to the recent commercial airline crash. Missing from this bubbling scene, however, is her partner.

He'd been whiny and grumpy when she'd first arrived at the crime scene – questioning McGee as to how this was in their purview and then, much like the flip of switch his mood had changed and he'd gone extremely quiet.

He'd offered to drive her to NCIS when they'd left the crime scene that couldn't have been more than five miles from Navy Yard itself and she'd met his offer with utter confusion. They'd both driven separate cars to the scene – another part of _The Rule_ – and she wasn't just going to leave hers in the backwoods of some Maryland park. But he could have guessed that and so she appraised his mood and state of mind and something told her that something was _really_ off with him.

Tony covered, though, said he was tired, confused and had changed the subject and walked away. She'd barely seen him since.

That is, until he strides into the bullpen just moments after McGee and Gibbs' departure and hands her a cup of coffee.

"Coffee for the lady," he says and it's another uncharacteristic violation of _The Rule_.

Ziva takes it and doesn't remark on it, because, after all, she has been up since three and she knows he's made it exactly the way she likes it.

She watches him go to sit at his desk, but he's distracted by Claudia Meyer's license, which is still on the plasma. Tony stares at it for a moment and then catches her watching him and returns to his desk. He spends the next half hour going to great lengths to make sure that she thinks he's extremely busy and into his work.

But he's still preoccupied and she can tell.

"Is something wrong, Tony?" she asks. She's drained the coffee and thrown it out.

"Not a thing, Zee-vah."

"You are sure?" she presses because it's clear he's not fine.

The ringing of his desk phone stalls whatever answer he was going to give her and he grabs it before it even completes one sounding. "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo's desk." He says. Tony pauses. "I'll be right down."

He stands. "No one to escort Lance Corporal Meyers up," he explains and as he walks past her and out of the bullpen he adds, "Hey, did you know that thirty percent of the women in the US are 5'6?"

She didn't. And she's not sure why he chose to share that factoid now or what it has to do with his current odd behavior.

* * *

Meyers is beside himself when Tony and Ziva begin to discuss his wife with him. And really, Tony can't blame him, because, sure, he's put himself in the shoes of the widower so many times before, but right now with Claudia Meyers bearing such an uncanny resemblance to Ziva, that feeling is tenfold. He wants to cry with the guy, but then Ziva will really think something is wrong.

"No, no, Claudia had no enemies," he shakes his head at Ziva's prodding. "She was Claudia – full of life, bursting with energy. She makes everyone a better person. You think that people are exaggerating when they describe people that way, but once I met Claudia, I never doubted again. It was true with her."

"So Lance Corporal," Ziva broaches, "Is there anyone who would want to hurt _you_?"

The look of pain that washes over the guy's face is unbearable to watch. It's like he had never before contemplated the idea that he could be responsible for the two gunshots that rang through his wife's chest and now that he hears question, he wants two bullet holes of his own.

Tony's pretty sure he's having an out of body experience. It wouldn't be the first time that he had one while talking to a witness in the conference room. About a year ago, he was talking to a bank lender who'd spoken with the Team's very own Hatfields and McCoys. She'd asked Tony if he subscribed to the idea that some people just looked like they _belonged_ together.

_Yeah_, he knew what that was like.

Of course, things were different then. He wasn't with the woman he looked like he belonged with at that time.

Lance Corporal Meyers pulls himself together enough to think about Ziva's question and then respond, but not until after she's handed him copious amounts of tissues. "I couldn't think of any," he says, "I drove the front truck of a supply line in Afghanistan. Nothing too interesting and I almost lost my leg when we went over an IED, but I didn't so I did some rehab and now I work on base at Quantico, just in the materials service. We have a couple of friends, but mostly, it's a quiet life."

"Notice anything out of the ordinary lately?" Ziva continues.

Lance Corporal Meyers scratches the side of his head. "I don't think so," he cocks his head, "Should I have? Did I miss something?"

Tony decides it's time to put him out of his misery and steps in. "Okay, Lance Corporal, I think that's all we need. Do you want someone from NCIS to take you home?"

The man stands and Tony ignores the looks of disbelief that Ziva is shooting at him, because obviously this guy isn't even remotely involved. He's now just a sad and lonely widower.

_Widower_. That's a terrible word.

Meyers shakes his head and heads out of the conference room – Ziva trailing closely behind him.

* * *

Ziva is still aggravated when she comes back upstairs. She gave Meyers her number, in case he thinks of something that's relevant to the case, but she's beginning to think Tony was right in letting him go because he started crying in the elevator and he asked Ziva to call him a cab because he didn't think he could hold himself together to make the twenty minute drive to his parents' house.

_Definitely not involved_, but that means that after twelve hours, they're still no closer to cracking their case than they were when Gibbs roused them from their beds.

She rubs her forehead and exits the elevator. It's time for anther coffee.

"Still think it's the husband?" Tony asks. And it's the most normal thing that has come out of his mouth in hours.

"I never thought it was the husband," Ziva retorts, "I merely thought he could have been more helpful before you let him go."

"He was a train wreck." Tony explains.

"He lost it in the elevator. Nearly fell on top of me."

"_Ouch_." Tony's eyes go wide.

"I had to get him a cab to his parents' house."

"Yikes," Tony winces. "Well, give him a day or two."

She sinks into her chair and rolls her eyes and just as Ziva is thinking about closing her eyes and taking a very short and slightly conscious bat nap, the elevator dings and she hears the familiar footsteps of Gibbs and McGee returning from their trip to the bank.

She shoots upright in her chair and reaches a hand back to smooth down the back of her hair.

Gibbs strides in and chucks his empty coffee cup into the trash. It bounces off the side and lands on the floor.

McGee falls in behind him and picks the cup off the floor and tosses it in the basket. "Bank was dead end. Charge had been an error."

"DiNozzo, David," Gibbs barks, "What did the husband get us? Tell me he got us something."

Tony and Ziva take a moment to silently battle over who has to have the unfortunate job of telling Gibbs that the husband yielded less than nothing.

Ziva gets the duty, because, as Tony would plead, she is the one who didn't believe him to be useless in the first place.

"Unfortunately, no." Ziva stands, clicking a picture onto the screen. "He was well liked in Afghanistan. They lived just outside the city. He's not un-liked at Quantico and neither is she here."

Gibbs runs a hand across his face. "So was she leading a double life?"

Tony stands and joins them in front of the plasma. "Not that I can find. Her car GPS history doesn't seem out of the ordinary."

* * *

They spend the remainder of the evening looking into Claudia's past – trying to find anything that would give them some sort of a clue as to why someone would want her dead, but they can't find anything and as the clock approaches ten o'clock, Tony chucks his third coffee of the day into the barrel.

"When was the last time we had a random murder, boss?" Because maybe that's what this is. Maybe his obnoxiously loud gut is just another thing he's going to have to add to _The Rule_.

For all he knows, he's imagining her likeness to Ziva.

"Never."

"_Right_." He nods and looks back at his computer. Murders are never random and coincidences don't exist. And his gut…well…it's not like Gibbs, but it's been right in relation to Ziva on more than one occasion.

His gaze travels to said Ziva – diligently working with McGee on something else. It would be almost impossible for Gibbs not to notices the similarities between her and Mrs. Meyers.

Right?

They're blatant and he knows that Gibbs' softest spot – the one that is completely plush and extends deeper than any of them realize –, though often thought to be reserved for Abby, is actually a place that Ziva holds.

* * *

Hours later they are still no closer to proving that Claudia's murder was anything but a random robbery gone wrong and so Gibbs sends them home – requesting they be fresh faced and ready to work by the morning.

Tim clears out first and Ziva can feel Tony's eyes on her as she grabs her purse and slips her backpack onto her shoulder. She fishes her keys from a pocket and then turns to find him resting against the partition.

"Ready?" he asks.

She nods and waves goodbye to Gibbs before following him into the elevator.

In the elevator, Tony wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close and it is such a violation of _The Rule_ that her eyes widen and she asks, "Tony, what are you doing?"

He lets go and she knows it's because he felt her tense up. "Sorry," he says. "Guess I'm anxious to get out of here."

"You have been acting strange since were at the scene."

The elevator dings and they're deposited into the lobby and head to the parking lot.

He scratches his head. "Have I?" he asks. "Must be tired." Again, he tries to throw her off.

She stares at him as they head out into the night and then nods, "I guess."

They reach their cars and he opens her driver's side door for her as she's putting her bag in her trunk. It's chivalrous and something she would expect from him on a date, but now it only adds to her suspicion. She sinks into her seat.

"You are sure you're all right?"

"_What_, now I can't open your car door? You love that stuff."

She rolls her eyes, but concedes, "Yes, you're right."

That all-powerful DiNozzo smile comes onto his face and he closes her door. Leaning into the window, his voice changes octaves. "I'll see you in fifteen?" he confirms

"More like an hour." She says. "I need to stop at the drugstore and put in a load of laundry."

His face momentarily goes blank, but he recovers. "I'll go to the drugstore for you," he offers. "And then I'll just stay at your place tonight."

"I am perfectly capable of buying toothpaste, Tony and you are closer to the Navy Yard so I would rather we stayed at your place tonight."

He clearly doesn't like her answer, but the look she gives him leaves no room for discussion and so he nods and watches as she drives away.

She has no idea what his issue has been today, but she's thankful that he's not this clingy and overprotective all of the time, because she would certainly suffocate below it all.

This attitude is, however, clearly a cover for something else and as Ziva waves to the guard and pulls out of the Navy Yard, she resolves to reach the bottom of it before they fall asleep tonight.

* * *

Tony looks at his watch and then dials her cell phone again. It rings and rings and then goes to voicemail, her voice making his heart race.

It's the fifth time he's called her and the fifth time she hasn't answered. It's an hour and a half past the time she said she'd be at his apartment and his gut is screaming at him.

Something bad has happened to her. He can _feel_ it.

Slapping his phone shut, Tony grabs his car keys and makes the ten-minute drive to her apartment in six. He races up her building's stairs and uses his key to let himself into her apartment.

"Ziva?" he calls, "Ziva, you here?"

He goes from the kitchen to the living room and then into her bedroom. She's not in the bathroom and the laundry machine is not on. He goes back into her bedroom and opens her hamper. It's still filled with a mix of their clothes.

Tony kicks the bottom of the basket. "_Fuck_." He says, because he _knew_. He's _known_. And she clearly hasn't been here tonight.

He pulls out his phone and calls McGee first. As Ziva's proven before, he's the most useful one on the team.

"I was –" McGee starts to complain about Tony's late night call, but the Senior Field Agent cuts him off.

"Ziva's gone," he says and he kicks the wall outside her door. "She was supposed to be at my place almost two hours ago. She's not answering her phone and she's not home. I knew it was a mistaken identity."

"Woah, Tony, slow down," McGee says. "What do you mean Ziva's gone?"

"Just track her God-damn phone, McGee!" And he's beyond agitated. He's scared, more scared than he's ever been and he's sweating and one of her neighbors has just opened their door, hearing all of his commotion.

"Okay, okay. I'll track her phone."

Tony hangs up on him and then leans against the wall. He takes two deep breaths because he is of absolutely no service to her if he passes out and then dials Gibbs.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks to all the reviews and speculation. It's awesome to know, that despite everything, people are still interested in reading. **

**I hope you enjoy the third installment. **

* * *

**Chapter Three**

McGee tracks the location of her cell phone to the parking lot of a CVS pharmacy located exactly at the midpoint between her apartment and his. Her phone is in the cup holder of her car – exactly where she keeps it when she's driving – no matter if she's alone or with him.

There is no sign of a struggle inside of the car. Her keys are still in the ignition. Her purse is still perched on the passenger seat. In it, they find her ID, civilian and NCIS. Her credit cards are still in their respective sleeves and there's forty-three dollars and fifty-nine cents in the back pocket.

This wasn't a robbery and he knows that neither was Claudia Meyer's death.

Gibbs opens the trunk and, for a second, Tony is sure they're about to discover her dead body, curled into the fetal position, his name on her lips. But that's not what they find – rather, just her NCIS backpack and her tote bag filled the essentials for an overnight stay that she doesn't already keep at her partner's place.

Gibbs shuts the trunk and orders for it to be sent to Abby. McGee photographs as Tony just stands lifeless – rooted to the place beside her door that he's been standing in for the last half hour.

You don't ignore your gut. And yet he did.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs says, "You shouldn't be here."

The comment breaks Tony out of his reverie and he snaps into action. "No, Boss," he says, "I'm here to help."

"Yeah, well you're not really doing that so,"

"I was the last person to see her – to talk to her." He reminds.

"So you're a witness. You can't be helpful. Go."

Gibbs has got that right. He can't be helpful. In the comings days, he'll try to be helpful, but currently, he feels paralyzed – completely _paralyzed_.

"Yeah, okay."

The agreement causes Gibbs to raise his eyebrows and Tony realizes that not fighting him more was a mistake, because now the guy is actually concerned. He moves closer to Tony.

"DiNozzo, we're _going_ to find her." He says. "Just keep your shit for a bit and we'll get her back."

"Right. Sorry, Boss." He shakes his head, hoping he can shake himself back into the game. He needs to rally because this may be the biggest game of his life and if he doesn't give it his all – well, that's not even on the table.

"Go back to the office. Put out the BOLO on Ziva. Can ya' handle that?"

"Yes, Boss." It's the only right answer.

* * *

"Agent DiNozzo. Agent DiNozzo. _Agent DiNozzo_!"

And then there's a pause and it's welcomed because someone is trying to disrupt his sleep, which shouldn't be happening because while asleep he is able to forget that Ziva – _his Ziva_ has vanished.

Gone. Evaporated into thin air right before his eyes.

And then a hand shakes his shoulder and he leaps, because who the _hell_ was that?

"I didn't mean to startle you," Kevin from IT back peddles, taking two steps back. He raises his hands in surrender and Tony can't even appreciate the intimidation the guy has towards him.

"Well, you _did_," Tony sighs. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and cracks his neck. He's too old to be sleeping at his desk.

"I just thought you needed to see this," He slides a manila folder onto Tony's desk. It's contents marked _CLASSIFIED _in stamped red letters. "I mean, I would give it to Gibbs or McGee, but I can't find them. I'd wait," he goes on, nodding to the situation and Tony's inability to retain any sort of professional objectivity, "But, it's urgent. I think you'll agree."

"What is it?" Tony asks, absentmindedly.. He's too tired to open it and read Kevin's tech mumbo jumbo – in his fear and sleep deprived haze, he hadn't even considered the possibility that Kevin could be bringing him something Ziva related.

"Uh…" Kevin stutters. He rubs his palms nervously, his eyes shooting towards the ground. "I think you should read it yourself."

Tony rolls his eyes, but picks the envelope up from his desk. Why can't the guy even look at him? He untwists the tie and pulls the paper out. His eyes scan the briefing. There's some technicalities he doesn't understand – the _how_ and _to what extent_, but he understands the _what _and more importantly, the _who_.

And it's all he needs.

"Our system was hacked again?" He confirms.

Kevin nods.

"And Ziva's personnel file was accessed?" His voice becomes urgent.

He nods again.

"And her sealed medical record was download along with hers, mine and McGee's debriefing on what went on in Somalia."

"Yes." Kevin breathes.

And Tony knows that his face has paled. And that Kevin doesn't know what to do, but Ziva's weak spot is included in that testimony. She's strong; Tony knows that, but there are things from her past that should never rear their gruesome head again. He's promised her he would never let them. They all have, but they're powerless right now.

Someone has Ziva and he knows, just knows that they're using her past against her. He's out of his chair and halfway up the stairs before Kevin realizes what he's just done. And Tony can feel him chasing after him, but his eye is already on the Director's door.

* * *

"Ahjay Khan needs to be re-interrogated."

Vance shifts in his seat and folds his hands. "DiNozzo, I understand you're concerned and I am, as well, but just because it was another MC hack doesn't mean Khan was involved."

"Khan has a personal vendetta against Ziva and me."

"He's in Guantanamo. He can't orchestrate anything from there."

Tony runs his hands through his hair and paces the length of the room, he spares but a brief glance in Kevin's direction – the kid hasn't moved from his place by the door since he apologized to Vance for not going to him first upon their arrival - and then turns back to the Director.

"I know he's involved." Tony states, determined confidence back in place.

"Prove it then, DiNozzo, because you're certainly not allowed in the field until David's back."

Tony nods and pushes past Kevin to the door. He'd preferred if Vance had ordered Kevin or some other tech whiz to do it, but he hadn't and Tony knows Vance thinks he's off the deep end. The Director won't take him seriously with such eratic behavior so he'll prove its Khan. He'll prove Khan's involved and he'll get her back.

Tony stops with his hand on the door and turns back to Vance. "We need _all_ of NCIS on this." He says.

Leon nods. "All of NCIS _is_ on this." And the statement is calmer than Tony expects it to be. It seems that Vance may have some sympathy for him.

Perhaps he doesn't want to see someone else go through what he went through.

Tony nods. "Thank you."

"Keep your head on, DiNozzo."

* * *

He spends all day in MTAC, trying to track the hack into the system. He's running on minimal sleep – just the pre-dawn hour and a half that he caught at his desk –, two coffees and a sympathy given Caf-Pow. He's not sure what he's looking for, really, but he starts by looking into the IP address and where they've originated.

They have tracks on all of MC's known addresses and roots and circuits and whatever else McGee has found that lead to him.

They've been simply collecting incriminating evidence on the guy for months.

This, it seems, though, is not related. He can't link this particular hack to anything remotely related to MC and that doesn't settle well in the pit of his stomach, because if it's not MC then who is it? Momentarily, he's sure he's going to pass out.

And then Tony takes a small breath and pushes on.

He's not sure what time it is, but at some point, the door clicks open and he turns his head to find McGee sauntering in and some small corner of the treacherous sea roaring within him calms at the sight of the other agent. There's a familiarity that's been built between them over the last nine years and solidified over the past four – they're more like brothers now and Tony needs him through this because he may be one of the few people on the planet who understands the complexity and deep rootedness of his feelings towards Ziva.

He also has the first hand knowledge to understand the consequences of that file being out.

McGee hands him a sandwich, which, by the looks of it, is from the stand on the Navy Yard that they try to avoid consuming anything but coffee from, and a bag of chips. It must be approaching mid-afternoon, Tony realizes and that makes his stomach churn – unrelated to his newly discovered hunger.

They're approaching the twenty-four hour mark. He knows what that means and he rejects it, because in law enforcement they're taught that if you don't find the missing person within twenty-four hours of their disappearance, your chances of finding them at all, let alone alive, greatly diminish. But he won't accept that and he really never has. They always work to find people and they often do – Ziva won't be an exception.

"Been looking for you," McGee remarks.

"Been here for a while." Tony says. He picks up the sandwich, examines it for a moment and then takes a bite.

"There's a massive manhunt underway downstairs. Fornell is here. And the head of Metro. Figured you didn't want me wasting time to get a better ham and cheese."

Tony shakes his head. It's the last thing he would have wanted. He takes another bite and they sit in companionable silence before Tony has the stamina to engage McGee.

"So Gibbs read Kevin's briefing?" He assumes, because he hasn't been downstairs since he found out. He went to Vance and Vance told him to connect the dots so that's what he's doing. It's not unlike the last time they had to find her.

Except, it's _completely_ different from then. Last time they found her they weren't really looking. By all accounts she was dead and Tony was merely looking to torture the man whose actions were torturing him.

And sitting in the desert, Ziva wasn't expecting them – she wasn't counting on them to find her – she had cut them off and more importantly, she _hated_ him. Well, at least, that's what he'd thought.

He knows she loves him now and he knows that she's counting on him to come get her and that makes all the difference. Four years later, they're open about much they love each other. He tells her whenever he can and he suspects that when this is all over, that only increase.

He has to find her. Yes, he has hope this time. Hope that when he _does_ find her – because he _will_, he _will_ find her – he'll get to hold her in his arms and feel her gaze implore all the way to his soul when she looks him in the eye, but it is still so much worse, because she's waiting. She's scared and she's waiting on him. So, yes, he has hope that this ending will be happy and that's different than the last time, but he also knows all the myriad of things that she could be enduring while waiting for him – while counting on him – and that makes it all the more worse.

"Yeah, we all did." McGee says. "And everyone is worried, Tony."

"I'm not worried," Tony responds and his tone is biting and harsh. "I'm sick, McGee. I'm ready to die over the fact that someone wanted to know everything about her and everything she went through. I'd rather be shot between the eyes than have someone use those things against her."

His comments take McGee aback, because the Tony that is now with Ziva is mellower and much calmer than the hothead that he used to be. He rarely throws bitter and sarcastic comments at his male partner. And Tony knows this. But this Tony is not with Ziva, because Ziva's being held by a psycho and so he determines in that moments as McGee takes one step back and his eyes widen, that until he gets her back, expectations, acceptable behavior and rules, especially _The Rule_, be dammed.

Business as usual would not get his Ziva back. And he'll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

And just as he make this promise to himself and Ziva, wherever she is, the computer stops tracing and the IP address that hacked Ziva's file stakes a claim on address in McLean, Virginia.

* * *

They raid the house and by they, Tony means all of NCIS and the FBI – himself _excluded_.

She's not there. He waits on standby, a quarter mile down the road with Ducky and Jimmy. That's as close as Gibbs and Vance will let him get. He's too personally involved, they say.

Ducky passes the time by reminding him of all the missing people they've successfully rescued over their time together. He makes special note of Rosie Martin, the teenager, that, just over a year ago, they'd saved moments before being sent off to an international sex trafficking ring. There is so much hope he reminds Tony.

But Tony's barely listening.

* * *

She may not have been there, but twenty-three year old Dylan Potts was. And once they have him in interrogation, Tony realizes that his last name is quite fitting, because the kid looks like he's been high since the day he was born. And his last day sober was probably the last day he cut his carrot colored hair.

Gibbs slips into observation just as McGee takes a seat in front of their suspect.

Tony turns towards him. He's confused as to why the little guy is in there and just a little bit irritated. "I thought this one would be something you'd want to take." He snaps.

"This is _McGee's_ expertise," Gibbs responds. "I'll go in eventually."

"Eventually?" Tony questions and his voice begins to rise. "Gibbs, we don't have time for a long, drawn out, good cop, bad cop routine here." He pauses and regards his boss as if he's the dumbest man in the world, because at the moment he certainly feels like he is. "Do you have _any_ idea what she could be going through _at this very_ moment?"

The question makes Gibbs turns on his heel and Tony knows he's crossed the line, but he almost doesn't care.

"DiNozzo," he cautions. And he holds Tony's gaze, his own thick with warning and reproach.

But Tony holds _his_ gaze. He's firm in his stance, because he's never really stood up to Gibbs on anything. And she deserves this. "That file," Tony says and his voice breaks just the slightest. "Tells everything. _Everything_."

"I know." Gibbs says and it's level and even because he's seen the file so he does _know_. "I'm going in. I am. You have to trust me, DiNozzo."

Tony wipes the sweat from his forehead. Trusting anyone, even Gibbs, is hard right now, because Gibbs may have _seen_ the file and _read_ the file, but Tony's lived the file.

He doesn't feel like anyone is fighting for her like he's ready to. So he stares for another moment and then tears out of the room, door slamming behind him. He goes left to head back to his desk, but then he turns on his heel and heads right for interrogation.

He doesn't think. He just does.

And he's in Dylan Potts' face before McGee can even understand what's going on. "You're a little shit, you know that," he snarls. He grabs Potts by the collar and hurls him to the wall. "_No one_ buys your explanation. You sent that stuff _somewhere_. You did."

But that's all he gets out before a tag team of Gibbs and McGee and the audio tech from observation separate them.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Gibbs asks as he pushes him into the hall. He doesn't let him go until the interrogation door is closed and McGee is left to deal with their bewildered subject on his own. "You're going to get yourself arrested."

Tony huffs. "As if you've never gotten physical with a suspect before."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs cuts him off, "Not when I've recently signed a _close and continuing_."

"That's only a formality." Tony retorts.

"Yeah, for times like this when they fire you for acting on your personal feelings."

Tony shakes his head, "No one else seems to be acting on anything."

"Not irrationally."

"The clock is ticking." Tony shakes him off and heads for the end of the hall. He waves his hand over his head and takes that as good enough for telling Gibbs that he's leaving for the day – or the week – or until they get Ziva back.

Or until he does, _himself_.

* * *

**Gettin' ugly around there. Anyway, let me know what you thought!**

**Cara**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: ...And we're getting there.**

**(Dis)claimer: Ziva, Tony, McGee, Gibbs, Fornell and Abby are not mine, but those other lads, they certainly are. **

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Rather than being productive and finding her himself, like he set off to do, Tony ends

up at his neighborhood pub. It's small and rustic place that he has rarely frequented since he and Ziva got together. He no longer has the need to _hang out_ bars. But tonight, after nearly strangling Dylan Potts and all but telling Gibbs to go _fuck himself_, he'd driven there on autopilot and ended up at the counter, three drinks in.

Because, if he is being honest and laying all his cards out on the table like Ziva always tells him they should, he is crumbling – _crumbling_, _cracking_ and _collapsing_ under the pressure.

He _has_ to find her. There is _no_ other option, but he just doesn't know how and the fear that he'll never know how is _crippling_. Their usual police work, though previously proven successful, isn't moving fast enough for him, and yet, he doesn't know how to expedite the process.

She's suffering, he knows. He needs to get to her, but he feels crippled.

He rubs his temple before allowing himself to really think about the suffering that she could be enduring as he drains his third beer. Her file is more detailed and disturbing than ninety-ninety percent of the other agents in the building. Coupled with he and McGee's debriefing statements, he knows it's more than probable that's she's re-living her time with Saleem Ulman.

It makes him shiver.

Tony stops himself after four beers. Going any further would just lead to a sad and embarrassing night – confessing _everything_ to _anyone_ who would listen. He leaves the bartender money, a quiet guy who has seen him go through a lot and walks out.

"Be careful tonight," the guy advises.

Tony nods and it's one of genuine thanks and then steps outside.

Naturally, fitting to his mood and life situation, it's started to rain. The DC night isn't cold enough for snow and the cloud cover conceals the stars that might otherwise be around to remind him that there is _something_, _somewhere_ that will help him, _them_.

He thinks about heading left and towards his apartment, but it's still too early for sleep and so he heads in the opposite direction, no destination in mind.

Before he realizes it, he's only two blocks from Ziva's apartment. He should've known he'd end up there. She's always been like a magnet, pulling him in, holding him close – even when it was seemingly what neither of the them wanted – the pull was always there.

Tony climbs the stairs and lets himself in. There's no crime scene tape or official seal across the door, because it was clear that she'd left _here_ on her own devices. The only evidence of previous night's chaos is the dent in the wall from where he'd rammed his foot in frustration – in _terror_.

He'll fix it before the landlord notices, but not before she's back.

Despite the fact that she's not around to admonish him, Tony slips his shoes off by the door. It's wet outside and she has white carpets.

He wanders around for a few minutes, picking up a dish she left in the sink and rinsing it before placing it back in the correct cabinet. There's a sweater hanging on the back of one of her chairs and so he brings it down to her closet before realizing he's suddenly in her room – a place he'd told himself upon entry to the apartment he would not go.

But he's here now. Rooted to the doorway, eyes scanning the room for any signs of life that he knows can't appear.

He tosses her sweater onto the bench at the foot of the bed and deliberately lays down on the side that she usually occupies.

And as he sinks into the pillow, some of the tension that's been residing in his body since the moment he saw Claudia Meyer's lifeless – _Ziva resembling_ body, fades – just a little.

It smells like her. The pillow smells of her berry citrus conditioner and the sheets smell of that scent that's just _her_ – sweet and just a tad bit mysterious, but velvety soft. Her side of the bed is soft and slept in just a little more than his, but comfort spreads to the middle towards spot that she now spends nights in his arms.

For a second, he forgets.

* * *

When he wakes, the sun is high in the sky – higher than he's ever seen it from bed, even those Sundays he's spent with Ziva.

He's dazed and groggy and confused. And then he panics because he has no idea what time it is or what day it is and whether they've found Ziva – dead or alive. He needs to call McGee and he needs to find his phone in order to do that.

His hands smack at his pants and through his panic-stricken efforts, he falls out of bed and ends up on the floor, the phone, tumbling out of the pocket with him.

Tony's not sure the last time he accidently rolled out of bed, but there's no way it hurt like this.

He groans and pushes himself to sit against the frame. He's barely awake and though he can't quite make out the name, he's pretty sure that he dials McGee, because he desperately needs an update on what's going on.

The line picks up and he jumps down McGee's throat before the man even has a chance to say hello or ask if he's been shipped off to the insane asylum following such a dramatic exit. "Have you found her?" he questions. "Do you have Ziva?"

But it's not McGee that he's dialed. "_Woah_, DiNozzo, man." It takes him a moment, but as he ears adjust to the unexpected voice, he realizes that rather than Tim McGee, he's dialed Sean McKinnon.

"DiNozzo," he repeats, "You there? Something wrong?"

Tony sighs and pulls himself from the floor. "Sean," he groans, "Yeah, yeah, I'm here."

"Everything okay?"

Tony rubs his forehead. He hadn't planned on telling anyone outside the team, but McKinnon, one of his oldest friends and a fireman, himself, can sense danger a mile away. "No, Ziva's missing – kidnapped. I dialed you on accident."

"_Jesus_," Sean murmurs. There's a moment of silence and Tony knows he putting on that calm exterior, the one he puts on every time he tell Jess that _this_ burning building won't be his last. "Someone from her past?"

"We don't think so, but they don't know and I'm being kept uninvolved."

"Well, you're _so_ involved."

"Yeah, yeah I am," Tony sighs. Involved doesn't even begin to explain he and Ziva and Sean knows that.

Sean knows a lot of things about Tony. They'd bonded freshman year off college, both prep school graduates whose lack-luster high school studying habits had prevented them from playing basketball somewhere like Duke or Georgetown and cast them towards Ohio State. After graduation, Sean had gotten a job on Wall Street – like his father and grandfather before him, but his heart and soul had never been in it. And so, eventually, after a decade of sorting through odd jobs and picking up work where he could, he graduated from the New York's firefighter academy just two weeks before September 11th.

"Can I do anything?" he asks. "I'll come down."

McKinnon's wife, Jess, an ICU nurse, will tell you that it was a stroke of luck that Sean was home with their sick two year old that morning, but Sean's always seen it as a day when his buddies went into a burning building without him and never came out. Four months before the two-year anniversary of the attacks, the McKinnons moved to Annapolis, needing a change of pace.

"You don't have to do that." Tony says. "Don't leave Jess and the girls."

"DiNozzo, that wasn't a question." Sean responds. "Jess would be horrified if I didn't do anything. I'll be down tonight."

And since the move, Sean and Tony have really reconnected. Jess has always been keen on helping Tony find someone to settle down with and start a family. She's been playing matchmaker for years, but she's quite happy to retire that post in favor of Ziva. The two have become fast friends in the months since Tony finally introduced his famous partner and though he knows that Jess' allegiance will always be him first, he also knows she'll do whatever she can to make sure she never has to pick.

"Thank you, McKinnon," Tony says and he means it because he thinks that maybe if Sean comes up, he can whip him into shape and help him get his head straight.

"Yeah, yeah, buddy."

* * *

The phone call from Sean or _to_ Sean, rather, is enough to push Tony into taking a shower. It's hard – being in her shower, but he needs to get dressed and he needs to head back to the Navy Yard.

They wont find her with him sleeping the day away, hoping his dreams will fix reality.

He feels like a new man when he walks out of the elevator. McGee, Gibbs, Fornell and one of Fornell's FBI minions are standing in front of the plasma. Tony doesn't hesitate in joining them.

"Tony," McGee stammers, "What're you doing here?"

"Whatever you need me to do," he responds. He looks at Gibbs as he speaks and hopes that he can feel his apology. He won't voice it out loud and he doesn't think Gibbs expects, nor wants him too.

But it's there and they both know it.

Gibbs and McGee share a look of hesitation that they don't even bother to hide from Tony. And, honestly, Tony doesn't blame them, but that's why he's here right now –wide-eyed and wearing his favorite suit. He's got his head on and he's here to find Ziva.

Gibbs nods to McGee, but his eyes are fixed on Tony and that's when he knows that things will be back on track. If he can keep his head on, they'll be back working together. _For her_.

"I need a full report of this guy's call history in the last two years," McGee says, handing him a printed copy of Lewis Mickelson's driver's license.

Tony nods and heads to his desk. He's doing all he can to remain calm and not ask ten thousand questions about _who the hell_ Lewis Mikelson is and why he's looking into _two years_ worth of phone records. But his heart is racing in his chest and he can feel the other men's eyes on him – waiting for him to snap again. Do they think that this guy has Ziva? Is this them getting close?

He logs the number into the system and watches as the list of calls comes up. After a few moments, the computer scans and highlights the numbers that have come up repeatedly. Surprisingly, there isn't many.

"So why are we looking this up?" Tony asks.

McGee joins him in front of the screen and points to another number. It hasn't called Lewis Mickelson since last January, but before that the calls had come in daily – multiple times a day.

McGee looks up at Gibbs. "Is this enough to bring him in on?"

Gibbs nods and Tony looks between them.

"Can someone fill me in?" he asks again.

"Lewis Mickelson and Ajay Khan were good friends – _very_ good friends.

"And you think Mickelson has Ziva."

"We don't know," Gibbs cuts in, "but that's what Dylan Potts gave us. Mickelson was definitely paying Potts."

"And you think Mickelson took Ziva in retribution for us taking down Khan?"

"Yeah," McGee confirms, "It's our working theory. Potts said that for whoever did this – it wasn't about money or intelligence – this was something personal."

Tony's eyebrows rise. The pothead was certainly right about that. This is extremely personal.

* * *

Tony's sitting on the edge of his desk, head in his hands, when his desk phone rings. He jumps and pulls it off the hook.

This could be the call that he's been waiting for. The one telling him that she's okay – that they got her.

Gibbs, McGee and their FBI friends left nearly an hour ago – headed to check out an apartment that Mickelson had listed as his residence while he worked as an IT analyst at a small start-up business.

"You get her?" he asks.

But like earlier, it's not McGee on the other end of the line. "Uh…Is this Agent DiNozzo?" a man asks.

Tony sighs. "Yes, this is Special Agent DiNozzo." He answers.

"This is John at the front gate. I got a man named Sean McKinnon here – says he has business with you."

And the idea of him and Sean ever having to do _anything_ professional together, paints a ghost of a smile across Tony's face. "Yes," he responds, "He does. Send him in."

Five minutes later, Sean is led by an escort into the squadroom. Tony looks up from the ground to see his friend taking in the orange walls and the overhead skylight that allows the night sky to peer down on them.

"Didn't want this to be how I got my official tour," he says.

"Yeah, me neither," Tony agrees.

Sean takes up a spot next to him and claps a hand against his back. They don't do deep conversations, but Tony knows that Sean can only imagine the level of pain that he's in right now. "How you holding up?" he asks.

"Well," Tony says, sardonic smile playing his features, "I've been better."

Sean nods and they lapse into silence for a moment before he speaks again. "Jess sends her regards. I hope it's okay that I told her. She's worried sick and she wants you to know that Carly and Amanda can fend for themselves for the night or however long if you want her here too."

"Two teenagers alone in a house," Tony winces.

"Hey," McKinnon says, "They're not like we were."

"That's for sure," Tony agrees.

The elevator dings and Tony pushes himself off of his desk and rushes towards the door before it even opens. It's just Gibbs and McGee and their faces are unreadable and for a second his stomach drops, because what if this is information he'll never be able to un-hear?

McGee steps past him and pats him on the shoulder. "Nothing," he says and Tony looks to Gibbs for clarification.

"He ended his lease early about a month ago. Paid the rest in cash and gave no forwarding address."

"Just like the job," Tony says.

"Yeah, no address there either."

* * *

After a brief introduction, Gibbs puts Sean in charge of seeing Tony home for the night. Leave the all-nighters to he and McGee and the FBI grunts whose job it will be to track down the location of Lewis Mickelson, now that he's their number one suspect.

Tony doesn't really want to leave, but he does what he's told. There's no need to have a repeat of yesterday. It'll only land him with a pink slip in the long run.

So he lets Sean drag him out of there. They head to a sports bar, but Sean steers him away from the counter and towards a table.

"When was the last time you ate?" Sean asks.

Tony's not sure, to be quite honest. It was probably the sandwich that McGee brought him yesterday – or whatever day that was.

He's sure they all seem to blurring together right now. That's what she told him happened in Somalia. She didn't know what happened when because after a while she lost most sense of time. The change in shadows of her cell didn't matter any more and she didn't have the desire to predict the appearance of her captors.

"You do that to Ziva a lot?" McKinnon asks.

"What?" Tony breaks from his thoughts and focuses back on the conversation at hand. "Sorry, man." Tony shakes his head.

"It's okay, brotha," Sean shakes it off. "I know that you got a lot going on in that mind of yours. Hell, if it were Jess…" He trails off shaking his head.

"You know," Tony says, "I know it's not the first time, but I don't think I can handle this happening again."

"Hazardous job," Sean says. "But … it's not like you guys will both leave."

Tony shakes his head. "Not in the near future." He sighs. "Unless I get fired." He laughs at the absurdity.

Sean's eyebrows knit together. "Why would you get your fired? Aren't you like the best there is?"

Tony laughs. "I wouldn't go _that_ far," he says, "But I had a bit of an…outburst the other day. Grabbed a suspect, you know, the usual."

"Yeah, but they know…"

"Yeah, they do." Tony agrees. "Especially Gibbs and McGee, but it's unprofessional and we signed a '_Close and Continuing Relationship'_ disclaimer that lifts any liability from NCIS."

"So what's the problem?"

"Well, it also gives NCIS discretion to fire us or move us if they suspect our relationship is interfering with our jobs."

"This is a bit of an extenuating circumstance though, don't you think?"

"We'll see what happens." Tony says, "The job is the least of my worries right now."

"They'll get her back – _you'll_ get her back."

* * *

The break comes somewhere around four in the morning. And it comes in two waves, neither of which Tim McGee is willing to believe for fear that this is all just a dream.

He's certainly groggy enough.

He's on his third coffee of the night when text message logs clue him into what they've been missing the whole time. And it's their first real break in the … he's unwilling to call something regarding his partner's life a case. This was much more than a case for them just like Ajay Khan was much more than a friend to Lewis Mikelson. He was his _boyfriend_.

And this vendetta that he seemed to have against Tony and Ziva was far more personal then they'd originally assumed.

And suddenly it made so much sense.

Khan had spent a day with Tony and Ziva and any idiot could tell that there was something between them. Tony and Ziva take Khan from Mikelson – Mikelson takes Ziva from Tony.

It's never been about Ziva. It's Tony.

He shoots out of his desk and heads to Abby's lab. Gibbs and Fornell had just headed down to see the results of some human fibers found in Lewis Mikelson's apartment.

They're onto something now. He's sure of it.

* * *

**Let me know what you think! Cara**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

McGee falls asleep at the desk in Abby's lab some time in the early morning hours. Gibbs and Fornell have spent the night at Mikelson's work. They're hoping to find something – _anything_ – which points to him having Ziva and where the _hell that is. _

Meanwhile, he's been pouring over phone conversation records from Ajay Khan's detainment in the States before he was sent south. So far, he has been unable to find any evidence of _any_ contact between him and Mikelson while Khan was under temporary detainment. It's odd, McGee thinks; because this would have been the only time – one of the _last_ times – that Khan would've been able to contact MIkelson. And vice versa.

For someone willing to kidnap a federal agent as vengeance, it seems a bit distant, apathetic.

The phone on the desk rings and McGee's startled from his sleep.

"Agent McGee." He stammers.

"One of Fornell's probie's sent you a file from Mikelson's computer. They look like picture files, but we can't open them here. Tech guy says they're in the trash folder."

McGee nods despite his knowledge that Gibbs can't see him. "I'll look at them." He says just before the other end clicks off.

Tim turns the computer on just as Abby pushes herself from the cot in the other room. She stretches and makes her way into the back of the lab, groggy eyes peering at him.

"What'd you find, Timmy?" she asks.

"Gibbs got us a picture file." He responds – eyes intently watching his screen load. When it does, he opens his email and downloads the file. The computer takes its time processing it, but he doesn't need the full picture to put the pieces together.

It's Tony and Ziva. That much is obvious with only half the picture loaded. And as the rest of the picture comes into view, he sees that they're at the Starbucks just outside the Navy Yard – three cups in the tray that Tony carries in his right hand.

It isn't until the entire picture comes onto the screen that Tim puts all the pieces together. Khan didn't have to be an active participant in this. With a little surveillance work, Mikelson could see that Tony and Ziva were more than work partners.

In the first picture, Tony only has his free arm draped around her shoulder, but in the ones that follow, taken just moments after, Tony pulls her even closer and kisses the side of her head.

So maybe Khan didn't see anything out of the ordinary between Tony and Ziva. Maybe Mikelson simply went to check out his target or _targets_ and found something that he could prey on.

"Do you have a copy of the court records down here?" McGee asks.

It's the first time he's turned to Abby since the pictures have come onto the screen and there are tears running down her cheeks.

He sighs and pats her arm. "We're going to find her, Abby. Come on."

"I know," she sniffles. "Just look how cute they are together. Look how happy they are."

McGee's eyes go back to the screen and he sees the familiar _DiNozzo grin_ and _full mouth David smile_. Both have been on display far more these days and he's always credited it to their relationship and newfound appreciation for each other.

This is what he's working for.

He looks back at Abby. She's gathered herself. "Court documents," he repeats and she nods and heads back into the front of the lab, a renewed stride in her step. He watches as she accesses his desktop remotely and pulls open the file containing the testimony records.

Doing a cross reference with _Agents_, _NCIS_, _DiNozzo_ and _David_, they come to the part where the defense details the elaborate charade that NCIS put on in order to get Khan to confess. He relays things that Khan claims Agents DiNozzo and David told him – things like, his past enemies were coming to kill him. That they'd sell him out to save themselves and that he'd never to see the light of day again. The defense goes on to say that this was coercion – borderline inhumane.

He stops the recording and looks at Abby. "This is where he got the information. This is how he got Tony and Ziva's identities. Their photos were shown in court. It wasn't until he saw them that he formulated the plan to take Ziva from Tony. It started as plain old revenge, Abby."

* * *

At some point in the mid morning, Sean gets up from his intense session of channel surfing to check on his friend. Because Tony's been asleep for nearly ten hours and he's sure that's not normal for anyone. Let alone a guy who can go days on end without sleep.

They'd stayed at the bar for a while. After a couple of beers Tony became increasingly more talkative and he'd given Sean the complete and detailed history of his relationship with Ziva.

Sean thought he'd understood them before, but now he was acutely aware of all the demons that Tony was battling – for himself, for her and for _them_.

He only hoped that this _incident,_ as Tony called them, ended with another dodged bullet.

His job was dangerous and he and Jess struggled with that reality on a daily basis, but at least they weren't being targeted. Tony and Ziva were literally targeted time after time and all they've done over the years is fight for each other – whether above or below the radar – and now that they've finally won – above the radar, they're back under attack.

Tony's still breathing so Sean heads back to Ziva's couch and changes the channel again. His phone vibrates on the coffee table and Jess' face lights up his screen.

"Hey, hon," he answers, voice low so not to disturb his friend in the next room.

"How's it going?" she asks.

"Not well," he sighs, "Tony's shifting between uncontrollable rage and despondence."

"I don't even want to think about what will happen if they don't find her."

"We talked last night. Her history – _theirs_, is unbelievable. I don't want to believe it, but it's true. The things she went through in that terror camp – they're heinous Jess."

"She told me once that she didn't think she could live through it again." Jess breathes.

Sean nods and rubs his temples. He's not sure Tony could either.

* * *

At noon, with the bullpen still buzzing with all of NCIS's agents and half the FBI, Agent Ned Dorneget pops up from behind the partition.

He has the fear of God on his face as he looks towards Gibbs. "There's a guy on the tip line asking for you," he says and McGee swears that his voice has a steeper and shakier pitch than normal, "He says he's got what you're looking for."

Gibbs' eyes, ever calm and in control, flicker to McGee, though he doesn't need to hear the instructions, he's already bent over his computer. "Get a trace," Gibbs says.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs picks up the phone on his desk and looks towards McGee one more time for confirmation. McGee nods and swears that in the millisecond look they share, he sees just a hint of fear behind those steel eyes.

His boss isn't afraid of much – McGee is well aware of that by now – but losing them – any of them and especially Ziva, that scares Gibbs. And they've come close too many times before. What if this is the real one? The last one.

"Yeah," Gibbs says, receiver to his ear and exterior back in place.

"I want him back," Lewis Mikelson shouts and he sounds irrational and unfocused as his voice comes through the speakers.

"Who back?" Gibbs asks.

"Ajay." He says. "Ajay Khan."

"Well," Gibbs responds, "I want my Agent back." And as the fix on the call's location loads, McGee can't help but marvel at the statement. As if _Agent_ could sum up all she is to them – individually and collectively.

"I need to talk to him." Mikelsons says and he begins to calm himself. "I talk to Khan. You agree to move him out of Gitmo and you get your Agent back."

"That's it, huh?"

"When I get Khan, he gets her." Mikelson says and their theory begins to present itself. "What he's feeling now isn't even close to what I'm feeling on a daily basis – for the past year!" The anger comes back into Lewis' voice and McGee senses the rational to flee.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gibbs says. He looks back at McGee and Tim nods – he's on a cell phone near a rest stop on Interstate 66 right before Gainsville. "Why don't you come in? Bring my Agent and we'll talk logistics."

"Ajay." Mikelson cuts off. "I want him to bring me Ajay. And then we'll talk about his girl."

The line goes dead and McGee clicks the map onto the plasma. "He's on 66. At a rest stop right near Gainsville. And now he's heading west."

Gibbs looks at Fornell – who promptly barks at some over eager agents to head out that way and then back at McGee. "He's a romantic," he says.

"In which way?" McGee asks.

"The dark poetry kind of way." He grabs his badge from his desk and his gun from the drawer. "Didn't we get one of two signals or whatever those Internet things are from Khan out that way?"

McGee can't help his eyes from going wide. _Because they had_. They'd gotten four fixes from a cabin – a house really – in the State Forest out there. He pulls up the address and then phones MTAC for a heat scan, but Gibbs is already headed toward the elevator and so he grabs his badge and gun and throws the phone on speaker for them to confirm the presence of a live human just as the elevator doors close.

She's there.

* * *

He doesn't remember answering his phone or rolling out of bed, but he does remember Gibbs telling him that he has seven minutes and twenty-eight seconds to be outside is building and ready to jump into a moving car.

Tony has the wherewithal to tell his boss that he's actually at Ziva's place, not his and he hears the car screech to a halt before Gibbs corrects his estimated time of arrival to one minute and forty-five seconds.

He throws on some type of clothing, though he's not sure which that is and stuffs his holster into his side.

"They've found her." He says to a bewildered Sean as he runs out the door. And the guy looks so incredibly confused in the glimpse Tony sees out of the corner of his eye.

"Get her, bud!" he hears his friend yell as he takes the stairs down three flights – two at a time and Tony smiles at the remark.

That's what he's doing. He's going to get her.


End file.
